Never Forget, I Love You
by dtill359
Summary: When Emperor Desslok is forced to choose between the good of his people and his own need to hold on to the past, he must find a way to reconcile the two or forever live in conflict with himself. A "The Sands of Time Are Sinking" story. AU.


**Never Forget, I Love You**

Today, the memorial would be finished.

The greatest tree on the planet towered above the roof of the stone building, jutting up through it's heart like an ancient spear. In its highest boughs, birds nested, and small animals scurried to stash their stores.

The building crew hoisted the last stone, setting it in place just as the sun reached its peak.

To ensure everything was as precise as possible, Desslok oversaw these last few hours personally. He could do little else. The woman this place honored died seven years ago. Because of him.

He walked the perimeter for the hundredth time in six hours. Walk and watch. A simple charge, but one he struggled to fulfill. If he stopped one moment he would fall into memory – which he couldn't afford until the crews left.

Inside the memorial men and women cleared away the last pieces of construction debris and smoothed the ten-foot ring of earth surrounding the tree. Through the transparent roof dome shone the noon sun, making the marble floor shine. Inlaid in each of the five entrances' doorless frames were green and blue gems, mined offworld.

Everything was perfect. Just like she'd been.

The work crews returned to their ships and began the half-hour trip back to Galmania – the green world rising in the northern sky. But Desslok stayed.

He stopped two steps from the second entryway threshold. A gentle breeze rippled through his dark cloak as if it were a flag, flown in remembrance of the fallen.

Even the birds quieted as he entered. He'd promised himself he wouldn't step foot on this floor until the crew finished it. Now, he could afford one brief indulgence – one memory – one moment of grief.

His boots clicked on the perfect finish. The sun glinted off the surface of water running in one long trough around the base of the monument, interrupted only by two-foot spans that bridged the gap to each entryway. The quiet trickle seemed to offer condolence, as if it understood the great wound this place represented.

Before the enormous tree trunk, a life-size statue knelt in prayer, facing the frontmost entrance. Its hands lay folded in its lap, head bowed, eyes shut.

Desslok reached the statue and bent to one knee. With a hesitant hand he held the statue's face. It was smooth as polished wood… and cold as a winter's eve. He bowed to touch his head to the statue's.

How often had he blamed himself for her death? How often thought back to that terrible day and wished it had been he who'd died instead of her? But now, instead of that nightmare, he envisioned another time – one long passed, but ever-alive in his memory – the day he'd held out his hand to her, asked her to come with him back to his now-dead homeworld – a planet she'd outlived by only two weeks.

She'd refused. Not that he blamed her. She was right. His request was selfish – unthinking. But, oh, how he wished she'd accepted…

His comm buzzed.

Desslok retreated from the statue and brushed the dirt from his uniform before tapping the tiny earpiece linked with the device in his pocket. "Yes."

A hologram of his second-in-command, Masterson Talan appeared four feet away.

"You're still at Queen Starsha's memorial? Your meeting with the priest and Miss Nasheen is in twenty minutes." Masterson glanced around as if expecting someone to walk up at any moment. "She's expecting you to be there to work out the last few arrangements, Sir. I've rescheduled this for you three times already, and while I sympathize, a fourth would be –"

"I'm aware." His tone carried more bite than he intended.

"Sire… if you don't want to do this, you can still choose not to –"

"Galmania was subjected to tyranny far too long under the Bolars' rule. I'll not leave it without the promise of continued peace – without an heir to take my place when the time comes. Marrying Adina may not be what I want, Masterson… but it's what is needed."

"I'll tell them you'll be here within the hour." Masterson bowed and disappeared.

Desslok approached the fourth entryway and stopped just short of the threshold like a lion bound by a chain of unfulfilled wishes. They were almost enough to hold him here, never to return to Galmania – to his duty as its emperor – its protector.

The harder he fought, the harder that last step became, and in despair he leaned against the gem-studded frame and wept.

* * *

The small temple to Adonai nestled in the center of the palace's ground floor felt more like a prison than a place of worship.

Desslok paid intermittent attention to the old priest as the man droned something about the formal order of wedding processionals. Why couldn't Raymond Talan have consented to perform this coming wedding? Masterson's father was the closest thing Desslok had to a living parent, and the longer he had to stand here listening to the priest, the more he wished he'd tried harder to convince Raymond.

A single lamp and one rounded window lit the dry alcove they occupied.

"Sire, have you read through the vows?" said the priest.

"Yes." Desslok dragged to mind the portions of the text he'd actually looked at. "They're… quite long."

"Traditional vows are never short, Sire." The priest presented a comm. From it sprang a diagram of the sanctuary. "Shall we discuss seating arrangements?"

Adina tapped the air and one section of the diagram expanded as she assigned seats to her family.

Just above the priest's shoulder, the window promised freedom – a chance to escape this place, this… inevitability. But then, into the window's view came the planet he'd left only two hours ago. A single chain of seven islands accentuated its blue beauty, like an emerald necklace strung about a woman's neck. On the fourth island lay Starsha's memorial.

"Sir?" The priest shuffled a few steps closer. "Is there anyone you wish to assign your family's seats to?"

"My family's… Yes." Desslok selected a section of seats. Three names in, an emergency comm signal demanded his attention. "Yes, Masterson." This time no hologram appeared, and only Desslok could hear Talan's message.

"Ka'rel's fleet just dropped out of warp at the outer defensive perimeter. He's broken through one line already and he has a black hole generator."

"I'm leaving now. Meet me at the space docks."

"Yes, Sir."

Desslok hurried from the alcove and was halfway to the door when Adina called after him, "What is it? What's happened?"

"Ka'rel. He's going to try to take Galmania. Get to the bunker – both of you." Desslok didn't wait for Adina's reply.

* * *

In one warp, Desslok's flagship reached Ka'rel's fleet. How had they gotten this close without notice?

Desslok stood near his command chair, a holographic interface curved in front of him, showing the position of every ally and enemy ship. The deck shook from a round of enemy fire, but he kept his feet. "Target the escort ships."

As the bridge crew hurried to obey his orders, Desslok found Ka'rel's black hole generator, ringed by six huge destroyers. "Is Flicker launch-ready?"

"They're at your command," said Masterson from his post near Desslok.

"Send them now. Target the black hole generator. We'll deal with the rest."

Masterson relayed the order, and all seven Flicker ships appeared on Desslok's tactical display. They appeared around the flagship for two seconds before they vanished, reappearing just inside the ring of destroyers. Faster than the huge enemy ships could react, Flicker went straight for the monstrous generator's power center.

"Keep the destroyers' attention." On Desslok's display, the Flicker ships vanished and reappeared more than ten times as Ka'rel's ships sent out fighter squads to intercept.

"Sir, the escort ships are charging us."

This ship had taken hits before. But Desslok didn't want to take another if they didn't have to. "Target main guns and fire."

A blast of light darkened the front viewport as thick bands of laser fire ripped through the lead enemy escort, sending half of it tumbling away and the other smashing into the flagship's shield.

Enemy escort two ploughed through the Galman ship next to Desslok's flagship and emitted a shock wave that shoved them to starboard so hard the entire deck took a steep tilt. Everyone not in a seat harness clawed for the nearest handhold.

Desslok grabbed the command chair and Masterson the nearest console. Half a dozen unsecured crewmen flew across the bridge. One man slammed into Desslok, knocking loose his grip and both tumbled into a vacant station with a sick snap.

Masterson rushed to them and had to pull out the crewman before he could reach Desslok. A stream of apologies flowed from the uninjured tech.

"Return to your post." Desslok waved the tech away without comment.

As Desslok emerged from under the console, a throb spread through one leg and when he tried to stand on it, even with Masterson's help, he couldn't.

Just what he needed in the middle of Ka'rel's assault – a broken leg.

"Take the chair," Masterson advised quietly.

Desslok took the wise suggestion but gave no other sign of injury.

"A destroyer's broken formation. It's leaving the black hole generator and making a run through the gap the escort just made." The radar operator, stiff with worry, half-turned in his chair.

"Follow it." Desslok tested his leg and stopped when the broken bone complained. He drowned the pain in tactical maps. Flicker still darted around the generator, but only five of seven remained. "Dispatch our fighters to help Flicker."

"But, Sir, we didn't have time to load –"

"I know. Send whatever we have."

Another ten ships materialized on the map – all the fighters they'd hangered before time forced their launch.

"They're low on fuel."

"Then they'll have to make every bit count." Desslok tracked the rouge enemy destroyer, ploughing straight for Galmania. "Tell the fighters to find a safe place to wait out the engagement when their reserves run out."

Desslok's ship broke from the fleet in pursuit of the destroyer. This enemy proved faster than the last batch of Bolar ships they'd fended off a month ago. Ka'rel must have found another group of scientists to exploit.

The enemy ship warped. Desslok's flagship followed and re-materialized just off the enemy's port bow, far too near Galmanian orbit for his liking. "Target main guns."

The planet loomed closer, and lighted cities glowed on the world's night-side.

"Fire."

The shot punched through a navigational array and sent the ship swinging off course. But the destroyer didn't drift into space. Gravity sucked it into orbit around, not Galmania, but its twin planet, the ocean world. The destroyer slung into low orbit too fast and dropped through the atmosphere like an iron fresh from the forge, about to be doused.

At least it would crash into the ocean. They could recover some of Ka'rel's crew and pieces of the ship.

But instead of heading for the water, the ship made one unsteady weave, straight toward the island chain. It ploughed into the fourth island, and though Desslok couldn't see the crash from orbit, he knew no one survived – probably on Ka'rel's orders.

He checked the crash coordinates. Starsha's memorial…

"Message from Ka'rel's flagship," said comm.

After a quick check of Flicker's progress, he sat as straight as he dared and kept all thoughts of the destroyed memorial tucked carefully away. "Accept it."

Krischga Ka'rel's toothy grin and ash-grey face filled the screen. "I don't know what your little squad of flies is trying to do, but they won't get through the generator's armor. Back down now and I won't turn it on you and your fleet."

Desslok presented the most confident smirk he could. Bemlayze, the former Bolar leader once turned a black hole generator on him too. And didn't live to tell the tale. "Go ahead," he said, feigning indifference. "But I will not surrender this world to you, or to anyone, Ka'rel. I expelled your people once. I'll do it again."

An alert nagged for Desslok's attention. Fire and explosions at the memorial site.

"Enough talk." Ka'rel narrowed his eyes and ended the call.

"Massive energy surge from the generator."

Now would be a good time for Flicker to complete their objective. Desslok brought up the map again. All surviving Flicker ships converged on the generator, right around the power core. The assisting fighters held off a wave of enemies coming in from the surrounding destroyers.

Just a few more moments, and Flicker would be done. But did they have that much time?

An indicator hovering atop the generator flashed red, first it pulsed slowly, but rose to a rapid strobe.

"Get everyone out of range," Desslok ordered. "Now."

The Galman ships near the generator retreated as fast as they could, but they'd never make it out of the affected area in time. If the generator activated now, their only hope was to wait out the artificial black holes and hope their power didn't run out during the interim. But Ka'rel would use that window to descend on Galmania and take the world he'd coveted so long.

If Flicker didn't succeed, the little ships would be sucked into oblivion along with the other fighters, Galman and Bolar alike.

The power level rose higher, higher until Desslok thought the pulse might burn into his vision. A second later, the indicator became a heart-attack of color. Then nothing.

"Reports are coming in from Flicker," said Masterson. "The generator is down. They got to the power core in time."

"How many did we lose?" Desslok said.

"Four Flicker ships and six of the ten fighters…"

Desslok nodded soberly. "Ka'rel's retreating. We've won Galmania another day."

The entire bridge crew sagged in relief.

"He'll be back." Desslok watched the enemy fleet heading away on the map. "But not for a while. We'll stand watch until the fleet is out of defense perimeter sensor range, then, we're going home. Signal the remaining Flicker ships and fighters to return."

* * *

In the palace on Galmania, Desslok, leg now set and casted in a hard, black shell, limped to the floor-to-ceiling window that made up one entire wall of his private office.

"Won't Ka'rel try to attack again?" said Adina as she poured two glasses of water, one for herself, and one for him.

"As soon as he can. But he will fail."

"You should sit. Rest that leg." Adina set both water glasses on a round side table. "How can you be so sure he won't make it through next time? The galactic collision last year hit our fleets hard enough. How can we hope to stave off Ka'rel for much longer?"

Desslok leaned on the crutch Masterson insisted he use and looked out the grand window to see the blue world. Though its islands weren't in view right now, he knew they soon would be, and his heart jerked. "He will not succeed because I will not allow him to."

Adina shook her head and came to stand beside him. "You don't mince words these days." She looked up at the blue planet too. "I know it's because of her – because of Starsha… That memorial means a lot to you, doesn't it?"

Desslok gripped the crutch hard.

"I'm sorry it was hit in the attack. You should send someone to assess the damage. Maybe it can be repaired." Adina laid a hand on his arm.

"Please, finish the ceremony arrangements without me." He shifted away from her touch and limped to the door. "I'll return in a few hours."

* * *

Desslok stood just outside the blast radius of the crashed enemy ship. As the sun set on the ruined memorial, the great tree smoldered and smoked, blanketing the hill in thick despair. The stone building lay in ruins, pierced by the crashed ship's bow. Around it all scattered a thick layer of dirt and pieces of metal.

His set leg throbbed as he limped down the hill, leaning on the detested crutch.

Bits of burning wood lit his way, and muddy patches betrayed where the water trough had broken and leaked into the surrounding ground. Where the statue once stood was now just a ruined pile of shattered pieces.

Atop the rubble lay what remained of the statue's face, eyes still closed. He picked up the piece, but holding it now was hollow, pointless. No matter what he did, he couldn't bring this place back. He'd set aside the resources needed a little at a time, but with Galmania's large-scale reconstruction effort after last year's catastrophe, he couldn't in good conscience allocate more – not when his people needed homes rebuilt, ships commissioned, roads made. Their need to live outweighed his need to remember. If Starsha were here, she would agree.

He dropped the broken piece into the pile and hobbled out of the destroyed remains of one entryway. Its arched top was gone, broken and thrown to the ground in ten pieces. Not twelve steps away, the smoking hulk of the enemy ship lay like a dead dog, its violet hull torn, shredded, blistered and cracking.

On the way down the hill, he almost tripped over one more ship piece, embedded in the ground. He worked it out of the dirt and brushed off a layer of grime. It was a rounded piece of gun turret, curved enough to resemble an outstretched hand. He rubbed a piece of the metal clean. It shone deeper purple than the rest of the hull – likely reinforced to withstand the blasts of energy punched through it with every firing.

He fought not to look back as he returned to the little ship he'd taken here. Now, the world was dark, the sun far from rising. He boarded the ship and set the piece of metal beside him. It rattled a little as he took off, intending to head back to Galmania, but as he rose above the islands, he saw the chain stretched out like a thread of promises, so clear, yet so easy to break.

He flew over them twice, looking down on each island like a father watching over his slumbering children. The third time he passed over, he decided he couldn't keep flying around all night, and he had no desire to go home, so he landed on the chain's third island.

Desslok settled his ship into a little clearing surrounded by evergreen trees that waved in the night breeze. He stepped out of the ship. The scent of smoke and ruin still weighed on the wind from the next island over, but it wasn't nearly as strong.

On a whim, he took the ship fragment with him.

Throughout the clearing wildflowers bloomed. If it were daylight, he knew he would see a blanket of blues and purples, accented with yellow and orange. Each bud opened like a friend welcoming him home.

The night closed around him, a blanket of much-needed peace. He limped across the clearing and into the trees. He walked farther than he should have and soon couldn't see the clearing or the ship anymore, though he knew where it was and never once worried he couldn't find it again.

Through the wood and into a nameless valley he wandered. Then, the rain began. At first, he didn't care. Little could dampen his spirits further.

He didn't bother looking for cover until the lightning started. On the far side of the valley stood a natural overhang – a small alcove dug into the rock, a dry place to wait out the storm.

As he stood inside this alcove – nothing like the one back at the temple – he stared into the storm, unseeing, uncaring. No matter what, he could never bring back the woman he loved. And not even the now-shattered monument could soothe his heartache. And Adina's presence, though well-meaning, only seemed to irritate.

She tried to cater to him, but he annoyed her sometimes – more often as the wedding drew closer. His attempts to stay out of the preparations seemed to upset her even more.

He set his comm on a nearby rock and turned on its assistive lighting. The metal piece from the crash glistened in the dimness. The dirt from the crash site was gone, washed away by the storm. It was a lovely color, one Starsha would have liked – something between midnight purple and cobalt blue.

As he reached to set the fragment on the rock beside his comm the wet metal slipped from his hand and clattered farther into the alcove. He sighed, picked up his comm and carefully followed the piece.

He found it wedged between two rocks. As he bent to pick up the piece, light fell on a rock pile. It appeared natural, as if this were once a cave, but the tunnel leading further underground collapsed some time ago. Rocks of varying sizes and shapes littered the back of the alcove.

One rock, smoothed on every side but one, seemed to invite him to pick it up. It was cool and clean, the size of his fist. He tucked the ship fragment under one arm and retrieved the rock only to set it down again when he found four other stones almost identical to it.

Slowly, he hauled all five stones and the metal piece back toward the alcove entrance. With great care he arranged them, all five stones around the piece of metal, like a guardian troop ringing their queen. He couldn't give Starsha a proper memorial – not right now, but maybe he could set up a temporary one here – one that would serve as a reminder to all that he would never stop remembering her, loving her.

Outside, the rain broke.

He hurried back to his ship as quickly as his leg allowed and fetched from the emergency kit a piece of everblaze – a long-burning fuel, sometimes said to have kept a fire going for years. He hiked back to the alcove, set the everblaze inside the piece of metal and lit it.

A small flame sparked and rose into a high line of warmth. It doused the darkness and glowed like the first ray of morning.

This. This was what Starsha was. A light in darkness, a wisp of warmth in winter, a smile in despair. He thought back to the memorial he'd taken such care overseeing. It was beautiful, proper, set on a hill for all to see. But this little light… that was Starsha of Iscandar – not a statue or a great monument. No, she would have loved this more – this fire that would live on through days to come. Though planted among enemies, she'd lived – though surrounded by disease, she'd escaped. Though challenged by foes far greater than her… she'd triumphed.

The flame blurred as he let the memories come in waves – every treasured moment, beloved memory, cherished word – they all came back like a flock of birds returning home in summer. And as he remembered, he found the grief, not more bearable, but more honorable. She'd changed his life. Why should he forget her – relegate her to some forbidden corner of memory, out of sight or acknowledgement?

No.

He dried his eyes on one sleeve.

Desslok whispered an old blessing over the fire, one he'd learned from Masterson's father long ago, then he said, "Be at peace, my love… One day, we will meet again."

As night lightened into day, Desslok left the alcove, but he knew he needn't worry about forgetting this place. No matter how far he roamed, how many years passed between visits here, he would always remember.

As he set course back to Galmania he left a new assignment for his personal guard. As long as Galmania remained, one person would always watch over this place and tend the everblaze flame just as he would tend the fire of memory set forever in his own heart.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

This piece was written for the WA Flower Challenge.


End file.
